Taichou's Stray
by themicemen
Summary: When Renji was defeated his wounds were not the only things to cut him where it hurt.


Watch for this somewhere near the first time Renji 'dies' - you can almost imagine it in his face, no? ;)

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A stray howls at the moon, an unapproachable goal that he could only reach through his dreams. It howls at the moon in frustration, in anger, and in desire. To try and attain the moon, it had only to leap blindly into the night sky but it needed only the merest fall to break him.

_I shall light a fire upon the fang that falls short, so that I needn't see that star, so that it shall not tear this throat of mine._

Cut from its bonding, his red hair fell from its tie. Released as he would soon perhaps be released. There was an explosion that blew him back, but he did not have time to react to that. He was too busy wondering why his hair was about his shoulders. He did not like his hair. Never did, never will. It was like him, wild and untameable. Angry, spiky redness that refused every attempt at pacification.

_His long, dark hair flowed with the effortless beauty of water. Silken tresses bound by a bone white kenseikan. He had never wanted to touch something so badly as his taichou's hair. Each strand slipped easily between his fingers and before he even realised it, they fell from his hands and onto that ivory skin._

Sweat and blood simultaneously merged into rivulets and ran down the slick half-blade of his soul-cutter. The rest of his zanpaktou lay in broken shards at his feet and in each one showed a shattered reflection of his broken self. Zabimaru lay in pieces and it was too late for him to do anything. His soul-cutter was shattered, Rukia was going to die, and Kuchiki-taichou had put him aside as a useless no-hoper after all these years he thought he'd finally achieved something.

_His skin was so delicate in the soft moonlight that it was almost translucent. It shone, as if by some inner light of its own, and the pale radiance reminded him of what a goddess would look like in full glory. Except taichou wasn't a goddess. He wasn't even a god, although some would easily believe so._

It hurt. Everything hurt so damn much and the soft spattering that was his blood did not stop. He felt ridiculously like a dripping tap. So broken. He lay against the rock, the only thing that seemed to sustain him. He clung to it for strength as Antaios clung to his strength, the earth.

_Fingers bruising fingers. Fingers bruising skin. Lips bruising each other. They were fierce like the warriors they were, but gentle as lovers. They were burning with lust but silent as the darkest night. Under him was the pearly skin and above him the sable hair in all its silken glory. He was shining in the light of the moon and as he lay beneath taichou, he felt as if he had reached the stars._

He had lost. He screamed in frustration. Perhaps also in anger. Not at the victor – no, not at Ichigo. He screamed at himself. For his failures, for his abject fortune and for his burning spirit in a despondent world that did not want or need such a one. He screamed at the pain. At Rukia and the human world. At Hollows and their miserable souls. He screamed at the memory of taichou's back and the pain it caused deep inside of him.

_It was not yet morning, but he felt taichou stir. There was a moment of coldness as the sheets were lifted. Fumbling in the dark. The moon had retreated and it seemed that there were no more stars in the sky. Cloth against skin softer than was humanely possible. He reached out to touch that skin but taichou moved away. There was not a word of acknowledgement. Only silence between them. Taichou paused before the door and from his robes drew a handful of something that clattered onto the wooden floor. The door slid softly shut behind him. The moon was suddenly out again and made the coins' dull surfaces shine in its luminescence._

This was the pain he felt. The cuts that shed his crimson blood onto the ground did not hurt him much. They were only physical pains. They did not tear at his heart and render his soul in a million shredded pieces. It did not cut him in two and run white hot blades into his chest. It did not feel as if his heart had imploded and there was nothing left.

_Renji curled up to close the hole that seemed to open in his chest._

Nothing but a stray howling at the moon.


End file.
